Date: Fri, 27 Apr 2007 14:03:26 -0600 From: Roy Subject: Phalen - Finding Happiness - chapter 11 This story is entirely fictional, and any resemblances to actual persons are completely coincidental. Actual locations are mentioned, and are used for 'background' only. 'Phalen - Finding Happiness' Chapter eleven by Roy Reinikainen "I hope my car's still out there," Phalen muttered as he walked out the front door. His muttering continued as he crossed the courtyard and stooped to pick up the books which had slipped out of his back pack when he dropped it. All he knew at the time he dropped them was that someone inside was yelling . . . loud. He hefted the bag to his shoulder. 'Yelling is something I just *can't* handle,' he thought to himself. 'Mom was always yelling at Dad about something. I thought I'd be away from that when I moved in with Jeff. He slid into the idling car and pulled into the garage, leaning against the steering wheel as the garage door lowered. 'Something serious is happening at school.' He thought a moment, recalling the conversation between his two teammates. 'Drugs. My teammates are using illegal drugs. I wonder if the coach is aware, or Greg. I wonder if *he* knows anything about what's going on.' Jeff walked into the bedroom, followed by his brother. He pulled some towels out of a drawer and looked over his shoulder as Greg flopped onto the bed with a groan, lying back and throwing an arm over his eyes. "This is going to be difficult for me, you know. Taking a sauna is bad enough with strangers, but . . . being naked with you and Phalen . . ." He sighed. "I don't know. Sleeping with you guys was different from *this.*" He gestured in the direction of the sauna. Jeff sat on the edge of the bed. "Greg, listen to yourself. How can being naked with strangers be easier than with Phalen and me? *We're* not going to judge you or laugh at anything you do or say. You're safe with us. In fact, being naked around the two of us might be a good thing for you. It'll desensitize you." He lowered his voice and smiled. "You have nothing to be embarrassed about, you know? I've seen you naked before. I know what I'm talking about." "What if I . . ." "What? Get hard? Is that what you're afraid will happen?" Greg shrugged, still with his forearm over his eyes. "I think maybe I'd be happy if I *did* get an erection. At least I'd know it was possible to have one in another person's presence." He jumped in surprise when Jeff slapped his knee. "Well then, the only way to find out what's going to happen is to join us, isn't it?" Greg sat up with a resigned expression. "You're right. I know it. It's just so . . . difficult." He stood and peeled off his t-shirt and resolutely stepped out of his shorts. He gave Jeff a grim grin while he folded his clothes. Jeff had already stripped out of his running shorts and was watching his brother's struggles. "C'mon, Greg, the underwear too." He made an impatient gesture, catching the underwear tossed in his direction. Greg scowled, crossing his arms over his chest, as if trying to secure elusive dignity. "Satisfied?" "Oh, good," Phalen entered the bedroom in a rush. "Everyone's already naked. Sorry I took so long. I was out there thinking about some stuff going on with the team." He looked over his shoulder and spoke as he stripped, casually folding his clothes before putting them in the dirty clothes hamper. Greg, the perpetually tidy person, watched Phalen's actions in disbelief. "I already turned the sauna on, guys. I set the temperature for something cooler than normal. I don't feel like boiling today. I want to lounge in there, not bake, like usual." "Back home that's called a Swedish sauna." Greg leaned against a dresser and chuckled, seeming to forget he was naked. "Huh? Why Swedish?" "They can't take a *real* sauna," Jeff supplied, moving to stand next to his brother. The similarities between the two men were even more pronounced when they were seen standing next to one another in the nude. Greg laughed. "Swedes . . . They can't take the heat." "They're wimps," Jeff finished. He and Greg laughed at what must have been a long-standing joke between them. "Yeah, well, I never told you guys, but I'm Swedish," Phalen said in all seriousness, walking past them into the hallway. They followed the broad shoulders, narrow waist, and flexing buttocks to the small shower room adjacent to the sauna. Jeff pulled the door closed and joined the others, silently sharing a showerhead with Greg while Phalen continued to talk. "Yep, I'm Swedish. In fact," Phalen pulled on some of his black hair. "Would you believe, I'm really a blond?" He ignored the brothers' amused snorts as he opened the wooden door to the sauna, pausing a moment to wave his hand in front of his face. "I think I still got the damn thing too hot. I wanna beat off and I can't do it while my brains are boiling." "Masturbate?" Greg tried to keep his voice from squeaking upward as he stepped past Phalen into the wooden room with its two tiers of benches. Phalen gave him a strange look. "Yep, masturbate, beat-off, wank." "Vetaa kateen," Jeff supplied. "Runkata," Greg added in a lower voice. Phalen smiled as they walked past. "See, you know what I'm talking about. Guys acting all macho like you both were back in the office get me all excited. Then, seeing your hairy chests and big dicks swinging from side to side hasn't done anything to cool me off." He laid a folded towel on the lowest wooden bench and then plopped down with a gusty sigh as Jeff sprinkled water onto the sauna's heated stones, resulting in a burst of steam. Phalen dramatically fanned himself but made no comment as he gingerly leaned back against the upper bench, testing to see if it was too hot. Jeff sat behind him on the higher bench directly opposite his brother, resting a foot on the bench on either side of Phalen. Phalen grinned as he looked over his shoulder and then turned toward Greg, becoming serious. "I know how difficult this is for you Greg." He gave him an encouraging smile. "You're doing great. I see lots of naked guys every day in the locker room, and I can tell you very few are as knock-down sexy as you. Course, I'm in love with your little brother." He tilted his head back and looked up, smiling his thanks when Jeff began to slowly knead the stiff muscles of his shoulders. A fine sheen of perspiration now covered each of the men. Phalen studied Greg through slightly lowered eyelids. "Do you wish Curt was here with us . . . right now?" Greg seemed to be relaxing as the heat increased. He softly snorted at Phalen's question, catching Jeff's quick glance in his direction. "The room is barely large enough for the three of *us!* I'm not sure another person would fit." Phalen spread his legs slightly and propped his feet on the bench on either side of Greg, leaning his head back against Jeff's groin, smiling at the touch of Greg's hands moving over his smooth calves. "We'd make room." Phalen sighed with pleasure and scooted forward on the bench, slightly bending his knees as he propped his feet on the bench opposite him. Greg noticed Jeff give him one of his enigmatic smiles, but chose to not speculate on its reason, though it was most likely because Jeff saw him watching Phalen play with himself. Phalen obviously didn't care. After all, he was sitting not three feet away with his legs spread wide, his scrotum hanging low between his legs. The heat and the matter-of-fact way both Jeff and Phalen handled being nude was calming him, lowering his inhibitions. He leaned back against the wooden wall and sighed, closing his eyes. "Yes, it would be nice to take a sauna with Curt. It would give me a reason . . . other than sex, to be naked with him." He smiled dreamily and continued to slowly rub his hands over Phalen's calves. "I've masturbated, thinking of what it would be like to be with Curt, and not be afraid of anything. The idea of having sex with someone is tied up with so many negative things for me. Still . . ." He moved one hand to cup his thickening penis, still not opening his eyes. Phalen glanced up at Jeff, who returned his smile with a wink. "What do you dream of doing, Greg?" Jeff adjusted his growing erection against the back of Phalen's neck and leaned forward slightly to begin gently massaging Phalen's sensitive nipples. The loud sigh caused Greg to open his eyes. Jeff flicked a smiling glance in his direction as he continued to massage Phalen's nipples. Greg could see Jeff's erection pressed up against his belly, as well as Phalen's, which seemed to pulse with each beat of his heart. Phalen reached down and began to lightly stimulate himself. Greg sighed, amazed that he was naked, with two other men, and was totally comfortable. 'It must be the heat,' he thought, as he saw Jeff began to fondle his own erection. Phalen moved his feet to the lower bench, allowing Greg to spread his legs and rest his feet on the bench next to Jeff, along side each of Phalen's shoulders. Greg groaned slightly as he wrapped a hand around his own erection, excited by how blatantly he was exposing himself to both men sitting across from him. His other hand toyed with his nipples, first one, then the other, his mind shifting between the reality of what he was doing and the things he fantasized of doing with Curt. "Are your nipples sensitive, Greg," Phalen murmured, glancing at him through lowered eyelids. "Do you wish Curt were here to play with them . . . to suck on them?" Greg groaned, louder this time. "Ohhhhh yes." He was slowly stroking himself, his response to the question barely more than a murmur. "I'd love to taste him, to have his sperm coat my tongue. I've dreamt of what he might taste like." Jeff had spread his legs wide and rested them on top of his brother's. Phalen was surrounded. He could feel Jeff's hand move with each stroke of his own cock. Less than four feet away, Greg was slowly stimulating himself in just the same way Jeff enjoyed. Phalen watched as Greg reached between his spread legs and began slowly rubbing his fingers over his perineum, reaching for his almost hairless pucker. The first time he crossed it he paused and sighed deeply. Phalen groaned at the sight and he could feel Jeff's hand movements speed up. "Do you want to taste Curt's hole too," Jeff coaxed. "Do you want him to squat on your tongue and spread his cheeks wide, groaning as your tongue penetrates him?" Both Greg and Phalen inhaled sharply at the picture Jeff painted. "Jeff loves to be rimmed," Phalen murmured. "I'd bet you will too." "Ummmmm," Greg groaned, still running a finger back and forth over his hole at the same time he masturbated. "You like to lick Phalen's asshole, Jeff?" The response was a groan. "Oh yeah, I can hear how much you like it." "What I love," Jeff murmured, "is licking my own sperm out of Phalen's butthole after I've shot a load into him." Greg groaned and began to breathe faster as he listened to Jeff's description. He was no longer stroking himself, but was slowly running a thumb over the end of his penis, spreading the precum over the head, and stimulating the sensitive shaft. Jeff continued speaking, his voice painting a vivid picture of what he enjoyed. "Yeah, he relaxes his hole so I can watch my sperm drool out. I love watching it ooze out as I run a finger around the hole and fondle his balls. Then, I lick him clean . . ." Jeff inhaled deeply and leaned his head against the wooden wall behind him. Now, it was Phalen's turn to groan loudly, in recollection of what Jeff's tongue felt like, lapping at his hole. He watched Greg and thought how closely he resembled Jeff. He had the same closely-clipped hair on his chest, the same thick pubes . . . the same cock. He stimulated himself in the same way Jeff did as well, wrapping his hand around his cock for a few strokes, and then teasing himself as he ran his fingertips up and down its length. "I don't swallow the sperm though." Jeff continued, his voice husky with emotion. "What do you do?" Greg murmured the question, his gaze flicking from Phalen to his brother. Jeff licked his lips. "I share my sperm with him, in a long . . . sloppy . . . wet, kiss." Each word accompanied a stroke of his cock. "We swap it back and forth." Greg opened his mouth wide in a silent groan. He slowly stroked the length of his shaft . . . once . . . twice. As his hand reached the tip of his cock for the third time he arched his back and shot a thick stream over his stomach. His body jerked as the second shot left a shorter trail. The third ran down the shaft and covered his hand. Jeff and Phalen experienced their own orgasm simultaneously, each captivated by the sight of the man sitting opposite them. Greg watched them both, transfixed by the sight of the trail of thick white fluid on Phalen's deeply tanned stomach, and how Jeff's cum seemed to cover his hand. Sperm continued to ooze from Jeff's urethra as he squeezed his cock, milking it, continuing to savor the sensations. 'It's all so natural. I feel closer to both Jeff and Phalen after this . . . closer than I would ever have thought possible.' He rubbed a hand over his brother's leg while maintaining a sperm-covered grip on his own penis. "Thanks, guys," he said in a husky voice. "I'm not done," Phalen said, standing up and smiling. He rubbed a hand over his stomach, gathering up as much of his own sperm as possible, and then reached out to scoop what he could of Greg's into his other hand. Greg watched Phalen with an expression caught somewhere between a puzzled frown and a pleased smile. Phalen offered the hand with his own cum forming a small puddle in the palm, Greg glanced at Jeff and then back at the hand only inches from his face. "Lick some of it off my hand," Phalen ordered. "Not all of it," he added. "I want to save some for Jeff." Greg glanced at Phalen once again and then licked once across the edge of the milky puddle, lapping up some of the liquid, instantly comparing the taste to his own. He licked his lips and smiled, his cock jumping at the thought of what he had just done as well as what he expected might soon happen. Phalen turned to Jeff who had just finished collecting what he could of his own sperm into his hand. Jeff licked across Phalen's hand twice, making sure he got every remaining drop. Then, Phalen offered Jeff his other hand, the one cradling his brother's sperm. Jeff glanced across the hot room, the sexually charged atmosphere almost crackling. He took Phalen's hand, this time almost with reverence, and slowly licked across it once, leaving the remainder for Phalen. He swallowed and then licked his lips, watching Phalen clean the remainder, and finish with a grin. "Your turn," he nodded to Jeff, dragging the towel to the side and sitting down, nodding in Greg's direction. He licked his own hand once more, giving Greg a mischievous grin while Jeff scooted to the edge of the bench and extended his own hand across the space, offering himself to his brother. Greg leaned forward and took Jeff's hand in both of his, looking into his brother's eyes. "Thank you, little brother," he murmured. "You've given me so much of yourself since I arrived. I . . . I never expected this." He looked into the palm of Jeff's hand for a moment and then slowly licked across it, feeling guilty that he might not have left enough for Phalen. He continued to hold his brother's hand as he looked into Jeff's green eyes and opened his mouth so Jeff could see his own sperm coating his tongue. After a moment Greg closed his mouth and swallowed, releasing the hand and lying back totally spent, both from the sexual experience, as well as the time spent in the sauna. He watched as Phalen finished cleaning Jeff's hand and then as he squatted in front of Phalen and kissed him, first catching a string of jiz that dangled from Phalen's lower lip. He watched the long, lingering kiss in silence and was left wondering if he and Curt would ever be able to be as intimate with one another as he had been with his brother and Phalen. After a few moments of silence he chuckled, "I think I could easily come to love Swedish saunas!" "Next time, we'll have to invite Curt," Phalen murmured, tenderly rubbing a hand over Greg's leg. ---------- Brad grinned to himself as he ordered his meal, responding to the, "What d'ya want," from the person behind the counter, with his order. He had never gotten over how everyone gladly put up with the surly staff and ramshackle building in order to eat one of the best hamburgers in Phoenix. The building was more like being inside of an ancient barn than a restaurant. 'I love it,' he thought, grinning at the fact that the Chuck Box restaurant was immediately across the street from the school of architecture. 'Quite a contrast.' He took his plank-like tray outside and found an empty table in the shade of an orange tree. He was lucky there was someplace close to the architecture school to eat. He hated having to bring a lunch with him to work, and was pleased he had merely to cross the street for a good meal. He began to unwrap the sandwich, but before he took his first bite, a shadow crossed the part of the table still in sunlight. "Hi Brad." It was the voice he heard nightly in his dreams. Curt was standing less than a foot away, balancing his tray of food in one hand while holding the straps to his laptop bag in the other. "Curt!" He drank in the man's appearance . . . the navy blue, crisply-creased slacks, blindingly white shirt and blue and red diagonally stripped tie. Curt's smile was tentative, as if he was unsure of his welcome. Brad gestured to the seat across the table. "Please . . . " He gestured to the bench across the table from his own. "Have a seat." He studied Curt as he self consciously set his meal down on the table and then sat down. He wasn't sure what to say, and Curt didn't seem to be doing any better. He had dreamt of the day when they would meet again. Now that it was here . . . "You're looking wonderful," he managed. "The working life is certainly agreeing with you." Curt gave him a diffident grin and nodded, unwrapping his hamburger as a means of distracting himself. It seemed as if he was suddenly at a loss whenever it came to carrying on a conversation with another man. First, Greg, now Brad. It was one thing to be surrounded by photographs of Brad. It was definitely another to be sitting across a table from him. 'Geez,' he thought to himself as Brad continued to study him, waiting for an answer to his question. 'At least, we're not alone. There's some chance I won't make a total fool of myself.' He grinned. "Yeah, work is fun. They seem to like me." He studied Brad more closely, the tight yellow fabric of the polo shirt stretched across his chest, highlighting the two firm nipples. He remembered those nut-brown nipples and how sensitive they were. He could easily imagine himself sucking on one, teasing it with gentle bites as Brad writhed beneath him. He blinked, drawing himself back to the present. Brad's deep tan showed he had been spending some time outside. The impish smile was the same, as was the way he tilted his head slightly as if he were waiting to be let in on a joke. He was smiling. The lips were the same. He had kissed those lips thousands of times and never gave it a second thought. He remembered the passionate way Brad kissed. Today, the corners of his lips twitched, as if trying to suppress a smile. 'The hands,' he thought. 'Ah, the hands.' Brad spoke with his hands as much as with his voice. He was a man who seemed to be in constant motion, his sparkling eyes missing nothing. "Oh, sorry," he stammered, when he realized Brad was watching him. "I'm not talking!" He took a deep breath. "It's just so good to see you. How's Larry? Is he treating you well?" He paused. "Are you happy?" Brad laughed . . . the same carefree laugh he remembered. It was the same laugh he had taken for granted. He was jolted, realizing how much he missed that laugh. "Larry's doing fine. He treats me well, though sometimes I think he imagines I might break." Brad softly chuckled, remembering something Larry had done. "It's sweet, really. He wants so much for everything to be perfect. He tries so hard." "Are you happy?" Brad thought a moment. "I'm content. Larry is a wonderful person. I couldn't ask to be living with someone nicer." He gave Curt a penetrating look. "What about you? Are you seeing someone? Are *you* happy?" Curt didn't have to think how to respond. "I'm happy, at work. They like me." He grinned. "They like the fact I know how to give a presentation. I didn't realize it at the time, but while watching you practice your school presentations, I was learning how to do it right. They like that." "As far as seeing someone." He shrugged, toying with the straw to his drink. "I've gone out a few times with Jeff's brother, Greg. We're comfortable around one another. We talk a lot. Phalen introduced us." Curt paused a moment. "I didn't plan it. Phalen actually set us up to go out on a date." He bowed his head. "Geez, this is awkward. I feel as if I'm telling you about how I've been cheating on you, or something. I haven't been . . . cheating, that is." He squirmed slightly. "Well, um, ah . . . you know what I mean . . . I hope." Brad gave him a wistful smile. "Yes, I know what you mean, but Curt, no matter what you do or who you do it with, you're not cheating on me. You're only going to feel bad if you continue to think that way." Curt bowed his head. "Yeah, I know that . . . up here." He pointed to his head. Next, he pointed to his chest. "It's *here* that hasn't gotten the message yet." He chuckled. "I sound like I've lifted the script from some cheesy movie." Brad grinned and continued to eat. "I've met Greg a couple times when Larry and I have been visiting Jeff and Phalen. He seems like a nice person . . . a lot like Jeff." "Well, you know Jeff better than I do, but I think Greg has more of a sense of humor. Jeff is always so solemn. He laughs, but even then, he's restrained. Greg likes to tease and laugh. I enjoy the laughing part. The teasing bit is tougher to become accustomed to." He grinned. "You know me . . . always taking things too personally." Brad's smile was no longer wistful. "Yeah, but you're admitting it now." He studied Curt for a moment. "You're different from . . . before. The way you talk, the words you choose, even your *posture* is different." He reached across the table and rested his hand on Curt's. "Greg is a lucky man." He closed his fingers over Curt's for a moment. "Next time I see him, I'll tell him so." He glanced at his watch and frowned. "It has been wonderful seeing you, but I've got to get back to work." He smiled one of his mischievous smiles. "The class can't start without me. It makes me feel important." He winked, flashing one of his impish smiles and then stood and squeezed Curt's shoulder as he passed. Curt turned in his seat. "Brad," he called. Brad stopped and turned to look over his shoulder. "Uh . . . bye." ---------- Carl eased himself onto the bench outside the athletics clinic. He grimaced as he tried to move his uninjured shoulder. It hurt. His injured shoulder hurt. *Everything* hurt! 'This has got to end,' he thought to himself as he noticed movement inside the clinic. It had been close to a week since Dustin had given him a bottle of pills which he said came from the new doctor. Carl didn't know of any new doctor other than Dr. Layson, the person who'd seen him when he ripped up his shoulder. The unopened bottle of pills had plagued him ever since Dustin handed them to him. Were they legitimate? Why would the doctor use Dustin to deliver medications? He nudged his book bag sitting between his feet, wondering if the bottle of pills it held was really from the doctor. Something just didn't add up. Besides, Dustin's tone of voice when he spoke about Doctor Layson, was . . . weird. Something wasn't right. He knew it. The trouble was, he didn't know what to do about it. He shifted position and experienced another sharp stab of pain. 'It shouldn't be this bad,' he thought to himself, wondering once again what he should do about the pills. If they *were* legitimate pain pills, he wanted one. If they *weren't*, someone ought to know. Also, maybe then he could get something that would kill the pain enough to allow him to get some sleep. He stood with a look of grim determination. 'I'm going to find out what's going on. Even if my appointment isn't for another week, I need to know.' He had taken no more than a few steps when he recognized the doctor approaching the building. "Excuse me! Doctor Layson?" The doctor stopped walking and looked up, his expression instantly brightening. "Carl! What a pleasant surprise. How's the shoulder?" Carl winced as another jolt of pain shot through his arm as he tried to move. He noticed the doctor's instant look of concern. "Not too good, I'm afraid. I understood that I'd have some pain, but this is killing me. I can't concentrate in class. I can't sleep. Nothing." He didn't realize how distraught he was until he began speaking to the doctor. He felt one step away from tears. "I've been out here for a few minutes wondering what to do. I don't have an appointment, but I was wondering, if you aren't too busy, if you'd be able to take a look at my shoulder. I also have to ask you something that's sorta important." Greg picked up Carl's book bag and gave him a smile, gently resting his hand on his uninjured shoulder. "Of course, I have time." He smiled and gestured toward the building. "Come on, let's see what the problem might be." He and Carl walked into the clinic side-by-side. After Greg logged in and had spoken to the receptionist for a moment, he gestured to a nearby exam room. Carl hesitated. "Doctor, there's something even more important than the pain. We don't need an exam room for that, just some place to talk. If we could do that first?" Greg gave him a puzzled look but directed him to a small conference room. "Is this okay?" "Uh, fine." He gave the doctor a nervous smile. "Could you put my book bag on the table? There's something inside that I want to show you." Greg set the bag down and they moved to opposite sides of the table. "Now, how may I help you?" Greg leaned on the table and gave him an encouraging smile. Carl licked his lips and swallowed, not sure how to begin. Finally, he took a deep breath and decided to just plunge in. "I . . . uh, wanted to thank you for the pain pills you had delivered to me." He noticed the doctor's eyes widen slightly before he frowned. "Pills?" "Yeah, these." Carl unzipped one of the compartments of the bag and dug around, bringing out a clear plastic bottle containing some red capsules. "I wanted to check with you before I took any of them. I've had them for a while wondering what I should do, but the pain's so bad I thought I'd better come to you and learn what the instructions are for taking them." He studied the doctor for a moment. "You didn't send these to me, did you?" He was answered by a solemn shake of the head. "No, I'm sorry. I didn't. I don't want you to be in any more pain than absolutely necessary, but if I were going to prescribe something for you I would do it in the approved manner. Someone gave those to you in my name?" "No, he never used your name. He just referred to you as the new doctor . . . the one with the accent. The one who had examined me." Carl extended his hand to give Greg the medication but was stopped by a gesture. "You hold on to them. I don't want to touch them. Would you be willing to tell my supervisor exactly what happened . . . the same things you told me, as well as anything else you might think is important? Whomever gave you those pills is trying to get me into serious trouble." As Greg spoke Carl's eyes widened. He kept glancing from Greg to the bottle of pills, finally setting them aside. He nodded. "Uh, sure. I . . ." He looked puzzled. "Why would someone want to do that kind of thing?" "I don't know. That's something we'll have to figure out." Greg left the room. A few minutes later he returned, ushering a tall woman into the office, introducing her as his supervisor and head of the Athletics Clinic, Dr. Rollins. Carl shook her hand, apologizing for having to do so with his left hand. The doctor gave him a warm smile as she shook his hand, reminding him of his grandmother. "Dr. Layson tells me you have something important to tell me." She seemed totally focused on him. "He won't tell me what it might be, though." She gave Greg a mock-stern look. "I don't like surprises." "Um, yes ma'am." Some time later he finished his account. Doctor Rollins silently listened to his story, asking some questions afterward to clarify a few points. At one point he winced at a jab of pain. "Does your medical condition require attention?" She gave him a grandmotherly look which would have made him smile if he weren't hurting so badly. "No ma'am, not immediately. Dr. Layson said he'd examine me after our meeting. I can wait." He watched and listened as Doctor Rollins reviewed the computer records of his initial visit with Doctor Layson. The doctor reviewed with his supervisor what medication he had administered, and what his treatment had been. Carl nodded as Greg finished. "That's what happened," he added into a moment of silence. "Then, the doctors at the hospital gave me something when I left, but I just don't think it's working." He nodded to his shoulder "This hurts like hell. I'm not able to sleep, or anything." "Well, let's let Doctor Layson have a look at you, then." She smiled once more. "I want to thank you for coming to us, Carl. Also, thank you for not taking these." She held up the bottle of pills. "Is Dustin really trying to get Doctor Layson in trouble?" Both doctors looked at him with keen interest. "Dustin," Doctor Rollins asked. "You didn't mention the person's name earlier. It was negligent of me not to have asked." "I'm sorry. I guess I forgot. Is he trying to get Doctor Layson in trouble by giving me those?" She pursed her lips as she absorbed this new information. Greg bowed his head. Suddenly, everything seemed to make more sense. Dustin had a motive, but how did he get access to the medications, and what *were* they? "It appears so. Everything I see on the computer records indicates the doctor proceeded exactly as he should have. We'll have to see what else we can find out." She stood, straightening her white coat. "This is serious business. Thank you for bringing it to our attention." She shook his hand once more and nodded to Doctor Layson as she left the room. The room was quiet for a few moments after she closed the door. Finally, Greg looked up and tried to smile. "Thank you, Carl. I'm sure I don't have to ask, but please don't speak of coming here with anyone, at least until after Doctor Rollins gives permission. Okay? If Dustin, or someone else wants to get me into trouble, let's not let them know we're aware of what they're doing." "If I see him and he asks me about taking the pills, I'll tell him I haven't needed them yet. Is that okay?" Greg nodded and then gently slapped the tabletop. "Now, let's get some x-rays taken and see if we can determine why you're in so much pain. Once we know what we're dealing with, we can figure out how to handle your discomfort." "Doctor?" Greg paused with his hand on the doorknob. "I hope you come through this okay." "Thanks, Carl. I hope so too." ~ to be continued ~ Thank you for taking the time to read my work. I *always* welcome your email and enjoy hearing your thoughts. If you would like me to send a pic of the character(s), please ask. In addition to the first 'Phalen' story, I have three other stories you may want to read. 'Leith,' and 'Chris' are located in the Nifty College Section. The third story is called 'Wesley', and is located in the Adult Relationships section. I hope you enjoy them all. Best wishes, Roy Reinikainen roynm@mac.com suomalainen_abq@mac.com